


A long night

by Colaris



Category: Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Drug Abuse, F/M, NSFW, Party, Sex, Swear Words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:16:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colaris/pseuds/Colaris
Summary: Elise Shadowrain explores the dark side of Gotham City for the first time in her life. It goes downhill surprisingly quickly for the poor girl, because she knows all the wrong people.//ArkhamVerse, mainly OC's enjoying the night life, NSFW(!), rough sex, drug abuse, alcohol, swear words.
Relationships: Elise Shadowrain & Mikołaj Brakowski





	A long night

The white smoke penetrated unhindered from the foul-smelling manhole cover on the roadside, was carried away by the weak wind into the sky at the same moment. It was so unbearably hot in Gotham. Even after the sun went down, the heat was practically in the streets of the big city, giving the impression that the skyscrapers were about to melt under the heat. Elise, on the other hand, strolled undeterred along the narrow side walk, trying to distract herself from her extreme nervousness. What in the world had drive her to actually agree to Mikołaj to move around with him in Gotham and hit some weird clubs in the night? The young woman sighed softly and came to a crossroads of the busy intersections. She watched the traffic light somewhat absent-mindedly. The black-haired man had ordered her to the red light district without further explanation, and to make matters worse, to the same street as the cursed BDSM shop. That night he would show her how to have a good time in Gotham. The orange-haired woman shivered slightly. The Pole obviously moved in social circles that normal or at least reasonably intelligent people should consciously avoid and, logically, loathe. Mikołaj, so to speak, associated with the scum of the scum and was not ashamed to admit this fact openly to everyone around him. Elise rubbed her tense neck, then glanced at the slightly damaged smartphone in her hand. A message from Selina. After a long hesitation, the Mistress of Fear confided in the cunning thief and devised a kind of battle plan with the Cat in the event that something went wrong that evening and she needed emergency assistance. She scanned the text message with a small smile on her lips: “And don't forget, honey: don't let your unpredictable lover boy sell you anything. I don't know in which forsaken places he wants to drag you, but drugs are usually included in the menu as soon as you walk in the door. Please take care of yourself, darling."

A kissing smiley graced the end of the text message. It was difficult to describe, but being in contact with Selina calmed the young woman's mind. A loud voice behind her made the orange-haired visibly flinch: “Hey, Huston to the toilet brush in front of me! Finally move your ass or at least make room for me! You hold up all the traffic!” The addressed stepped quickly to the side, then stared indignantly over her shoulder at the angry face of an older man. He angrily showed her the middle finger and rode a more than rusty bike across the street. Elise also hurried quickly across the intersection, puffing to stop on the other side. The bloody heat was more than stifling. She wiped her soaking wet forehead and pushed the black hood off her head. Small drops of sweat dripped from her straw hair. The Mistress of Fear dried her damp hand on her black cloak and continued on her way. She was about to turn into the next side street when a clearly drunk man stumbled out of it and fell onto the hard side walk directly in front of her. After a while, the drunkard looked up, disoriented, blood pouring from his shattered face. Elise sucked in a deep breath, unable to do anything at the moment but stare at him with open mouth. The orange-haired woman was finally considering the possibility of rushing to the poor man to help him up, when suddenly two figures emerged from the dark alley behind him. They obviously seemed very angry. The bigger one of them went straight to the drunk on the floor and kicked him hard in the ribs, then spat angrily at him: “If you show up here again, you're dead, you miserable son of a bitch! We're not the fucking welfare!"

The smaller of the two placed the sole of his black combat boots on the back of the injured man's head, then pressed him back onto the side walk with great force. There was a loud crack, followed by a desperate gurgle. The Mistress of Fear winced at the sound of breaking bones and stared at the whole scene in fear. The tall one spat disparagingly on the injured man, then turned his head to the involuntary spectator. He pulled up his nose and grumbled irritably: “What are you staring at, punk? Take care of your own crap, cunt.” He slapped his friend briefly on the shoulder and motioned for him to come with him, then disappeared back into the dark alley with his company. Elise watched them closely, then looked down at the man on the floor. He was motionless. From this distance it was difficult to tell whether he was actually dead or just passed out. This was arguably the cruel reality of the red light district. The orange-haired woman shook her head slightly and looked for her smartphone, then dialled the emergency service number after a quick search. To help him now was practically out of the question. As an outsider, it is better not to get involved in dark underground business, which could possibly even be related to the mafia. Elise might be suicidal at times, but there really are better ways to die than being beaten up and bleeding on the side walk. The young woman took a deep breath. After a while she stepped over the lifeless body and followed the two men into the side street. The over driven bass from the clubs could be heard from this distance, and the smell of alcohol increased with every step. She was definitely in the right spot.

The Mistress of Fear was about to send Mikołaj a message from her cell phone, when she recognized his slim figure leaning against a trash can that had been kicked in pretty badly. The black-haired man exhaled with relish on a cigarette, the other hand was loosely tucked in his trouser pocket. Elise frowned at the rare sight. Instead of his black hoodie, he wore a grey shirt with the first three buttons open and, to her amazement, a very casually bounded, dark red tie. The tattered jeans had given way to black suit trousers. The fabrics were all meticulously clean and obviously ironed. Only the polished combat boots gave rise to the suspicion that the elegant appearance was more of a facade and should give a dangerously wrong impression. The orange-haired woman swallows nervously, but then slowly sauntered towards the Pole. He turned his head slightly to the side and smiled, pushing white steam out of his nose. He waved his companion over and spoke in a throaty voice: “I didn't think you'd really have the nerve to show up here, slut. Didn't your daddy lock you in at home again, huh?” Elise rolled her eyes, came to a stop next to him. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the red wall behind her. The smell of menthol was already beginning to provoke a slight nausea in her. The black-haired man stubbed the cigarette butt out with his thumb and forefinger, then flicked it on the floor regardless. He pushed himself away from the garbage can, built himself up to full size in front of his companion and came visibly closer to her. The Mistress of Fear shuddered slightly, felt how the black-haired gradually pressed his slim body against hers. He was still a more than absurd sight for the ignorant people of Gotham. His slim build distracted from the fact that he was capable of incredible atrocities and whoever didn't look him in the eye might think he was just one of many lost souls in the city. Mikołaj had a diffuse aura around him, which could jump from one extreme to the other without a warning. Only now did the young woman notice that even his visible skin was not covered in blood today. He had actually clean himself and dressed up – especially for her.

The psychopath grinned wider, placed an arm over her head against the wall and whispered playfully against her trembling lips: "Is someone getting a little nervous? Don't worry, bitch. I'm here with you and believe me, I know my way around this clubs very well. So: are you ready for an unforgettable night with mister Brakowski, princess?” The person addressed blushed slightly and turned her face away from the Pole, obviously embarrassed. He giggled in a hoarse voice and licked her auricle once, then bit her earlobe almost gently. The loud bass in the alley slowly penetrated her limbs. The orange-haired woman gasped softly and mumbled cautiously: “Do I really have to give you an answer to that, Mikołaj? I probably wouldn't have come here if I hadn't been kind of curious about it.” She looked back into the deep blue eyes of the psychopath and felt her heart beating faster in her chest. The young woman whispered hoarsely onto his mouth: "Show me some of your miracles, bad boy." The addressed raised an eyebrow and pulled himself away from the wall. Elise closed her eyes for a moment, tried to sort things out. He was already driving her crazy. The Mistress of Fear smiled a little and followed the stubborn Pole, could not avoid the thought that she felt strangely safe in his presence. What a deceptive picture. Together they roamed the almost empty alley, passed the hated BDSM shop. Mikołaj suddenly pointed to a neon green sign, which was a good two hundred meters in front of them. Apparently the first stop on this unusual evening. A muscular, bald bouncer was waiting at the inconspicuous entrance of the club, in his broad hands he held a nailed baseball bat. The blood on the rusty tips indicated that the weapon wasn't just for decoration and was probably used regularly on rude customers. Elise would normally have turned around straight back at this telling sight and gone home quickly, which, however, was not really an option today in the company of the psychopath. He would probably laugh at her for the rest of her life. Mikołaj greeted the man at the door with a big grin and offered him his hand. The bouncer hit it without hesitation, then pointed irritably at the young woman next to him. The Pole put an arm around his unsteady companion and shouted in amusement: “Relax, Grigori. The little whore belongs to me."

That seemed to be enough of an explanation for the bald man. He stepped aside and gave way to the club. Together they strolled into the dark entrance hall, which led them into a completely different world. Elise blinked lost in the smoky room and tried to make out the layout of the location. There was no real dance floor as far as she could see, but there were countless tables and smaller sitting areas. The glass bar took up almost the entire southern outer wall. It was unusually clean. The orange-haired woman couldn't think about it any further. A slight jerk in her arm suggested that Mikołaj finally wanted to move around the room. The black-haired laughed faintly and pointed to a row of loose sofas in the western corner of the club. The Mistress of Fear followed her company at every turn, trying desperately not to bump into the chairs or tables too often. In the dimmed light, the path was peppered with almost invisible obstacles. Together they reached the previously invisible table. At this one sat exclusively young men with obviously Eastern European roots, who were busy emptying countless vodka bottles. One of the gentlemen stood up swaying and stumbled towards Mikołaj, hugging the psychopath almost stormily. The man screamed happily against the music: “I think a horse is kicking me! Brakowski, you fucking asshole! I haven't seen you here in ages! Come, boy, come, come! Drink with us, brother!” The company immediately moved up and made room for the newcomers. Two glasses were filled with alcohol in almost the same breath. Elise looked uncertainly at her friend, who just pushed her wordlessly onto the soft sofa. He let himself fall next to the orange-haired woman and grabbed his glass, grinning and lifting it up into the air.

Three other men clinked glasses with him simultaneously, with a loud 'Na Zdrowie' practically shouted by all those in the vicinity before they drink. Elise looked a little lost at the vodka in front of her, then hesitantly took her own glass in her hands. The unpleasant smell of disinfectant rose to her nose. Mikołaj thundered the empty glass onto the table, grimaced briefly and grumbled annoyed: “Are you already at the point of drinking the cheapest booze you can find or what is this broth supposed to represent? In all honesty, Kajto, you will fucking kill yourself with this adulterated garbage.” The addressee snorted contemptuously, but filled himself with new vodka regardless of the comment. One of the other people present gave a barking laugh and shouted, visibly drunk: "We can worry about that when we're dead, Brakowski." The black-haired man nudged the stocky man with his fist and then turned to Elise. He winked at her and then pointed to the unfamiliar faces one after the other: "May I introduce - the well-known dregs of Polish society in their natural habitat in Gotham City. The nice gentleman right next to you is called Kajetan, you can address the fat man next to him with Szymon and the completely drunk bum back there is called Tomasz. The best thing to do is to ignore him, he only tells whisked shit when he's drunk.” The young woman nodded slightly and stared into the clear liquid in her glass. All eyes were on her expectantly.

After a while she put reason aside and drank the inedible alcohol, set the glass on the table in front of her. Her throat was about to burn. Mikołaj ignored her clear signals that she did not like the vodka and immediately poured more without being asked. He said to Szymon: “Tell me fucker, where is the rest of the gang? I mean Bartek, Oskar and Dawid.” The stout man shrugged his shoulders and took another sip from his glass. Finally he mumbled calmly: “Maybe the parasites are finally working for once. They would have sorely needed it to finally repay me at least half of the money they owe me. They are nowhere near as good with money as you, Brakowski, and drink their way through half of Gotham at my expense. Damn sons of bitches.“ The young woman blinked a bit, slowly recognized more in the engulfing darkness of the club. The air was hard to breathe from the thick cigarette smoke, and there was an indefinable mixture of cheap perfume and old, stale sweat in the atmosphere. Simply disgusting. Elise rubbed her throbbing temples. It was incredibly difficult to concentrate on the conversations around her. The loud techno music didn't necessarily make it easier. Mikołaj smiled wryly and replied in amusement: “None of you wimps is anyhow good at cash. Even my little whore here has more in her wallet and she only works as an underpaid secretary for a would-be scientist with a useless diploma in psychiatry. Let that sink in for a second.” The man next to her, Kajetan, frowned. He eyed the female company with suspicious eyes. After a while he slurred inappropriately loudly in her direction: "What's your name, little bitch?"

Elise stared at the Pole with withering eyes and choked a second glass of vodka down her throat. Did she really have to put up with such an insult? The alcohol slowly worked its way through her body, making her braver. The Mistress of Fear growled menacingly: "My name is Elise Shadowrain and if you come even one step too close to me tonight I will castrate you without a warning." The psychopath laughed at her comment and hugged her for a second. He seemed almost proud of her. Kajetan started to laugh also and muttered: “You picked up a real hothead. I like it, Brakowski. Let me tell you, I like it very much, brother." Suddenly the completely distorted voice of the otherwise very quiet Tomasz boomed through the club:" You better drink more before she really rips off your puny cock and smashes your shrivelled nuts!" The man seemed to fall straight back into his delirium after that answer. The orange-haired woman shook her head slightly, noticing how her cheeks had gradually turned red. Unfortunately, her glass was already full again. The voice of sanity in her head told her clearly that at this point she had better stop drinking. Elise was very good at knowing her limit on alcohol and more booze would most likely lead to a legendary black-out. The plan to stop drinking immediately, however, probably failed due to the fact that the Eastern European gentlemen present would not let her get away with just two shots. So she had no choice but to choke the vodka down again. This time, however, it didn't taste quite as spicy and the stinging in the throat only lasted for a short time. Before the young woman could even put her glass completely on the table, Szymon poured more clear liquid. Mikołaj grinned contentedly and spoke in a very clear voice: "Please gentlemen, work on your fucking choice of words, you horny ass cunts. We've a sweet, innocent little girl here tonight that I will fuck afterwards 'till morning."

Elise snorted at the insult and giggled indignantly into her drink. The alcohol had gradually reached her head, and the warmth was spreading more and more. Before she could say anything, the black-haired man peered over at her and leaned closer. He brushed one of her short strands of hair behind her ear, then whispered softly into it: "Would you like to try something completely new, sweet cunt?" The Pole smiled mysteriously and pulled a small tin can from his pants. He pushed open the metal, revealing a few brightly coloured pills. Mikołaj fished one of them out and played with it between his long fingers, licking his rough tongue directly over the entrance of her ear. The black-haired man breathed lasciviously into it after a while: "It will make you a little more relaxed and I think you can enjoy the whole atmosphere here much better. Give it a try." At that moment, all the alarm bells rang in her mind, urging her to leave the dangerous situation immediately. Against all logic, a second voice suddenly screamed in her head to embark on this unpredictable adventure. Several seconds passed before Elise replied softly: “What is that, Mikołaj?” The psychopath smiled and replied calmly: “Nothing bad, Elli. Just a little pill of ecstasy and whatever else the dealers mix in there. You can never be so sure about that, but there won't be anything too dangerous about it. Probably. So what do you say, whore? Do you want to try?” The Mistress of Fear sank a little deeper into the sofa. Distracted by the thought of the pill, she only marginally noticed how her hand reached for the glass again and emptied the contents in a few gulps. Alcohol wasn't really helping with decision making right now. The black-haired placed several kisses on her ear and added quietly to his explanation: "Come on, you can trust me, princess."

His rough tongue slipped slowly over her already heated skin, quickly replaced by a hesitant, unusually gentle bite on her neck. Elise shivered heavily and looked uncertainly at the black-haired man. At that moment, all of Selina's warnings were again more than present in her mind. Warning she would surely all ignore today. Great. After a while, the orange-haired woman slowly nodded against all logic, gradually tensing up on the sofa under the Pole's tender caresses. He let go of her shivering figure for a moment and grinned wider, gesturing to Kajetan to finally pour more alcohol in her glass. The Mistress of Fear stared at the clear liquid in front of her, clearly more than tipsy to actually realize any more that part of the vodka spilled over while it was being refilled. Mikołaj put his fingers on the young woman's chin and breathed lasciviously: "Be a good slut and open your dirty mouth, whore." The psychopath raised an eyebrow in amusement and placed the pill in her mouth, then gently pushed up her lower jaw to keep the drug in place. Finally he reached for the glass, pressed the cold material meaningfully to her lower lip. Now there was literally no turning back. Elise drank the alcohol and only marginally noticed how the little pill was washed into her esophagus. What would happen now? The Pole put the empty glass back on the table and turned to his friends, talking about some banal topic of which the young woman did not notice anything at this moment. The orange-haired woman scratched her forearm, getting nervous with every passing second. The vodka was already taking away her senses and she had basically no experience with intoxicants, especially not in such a fatal combination. Jonathan had often complained about the number of drug deaths in Gotham because these idiots often refused to limit themselves to one substance and stubbornly ignored the interactions. An irony of fate that she had just basically done the same thing out of pure ignorance.

How stupid did you have to be to knowingly trust a man like Mikołaj? Elise was trembling slightly. How much time had passed since taking the pill? Hours? Minutes? Maybe some seconds? She laid the back of her head slowly on the back of the sofa and stared lost at the ceiling, breathing deeply in and out. Elise could practically keep track of the mist that was pushing up into the air from her heavy lungs. Suddenly she discovered the flashing fire alarm on the dark panelling above her, which the Mistress of Fear had not noticed at all before. It shone somehow ... different. The red light pulsed in the sound of the music and became more intense with every moment, seemed almost tangible. At that moment, the orange-haired woman literally forgot to blink, just watched the LED lamp, clearly fascinated. She turned her head barely noticeably to the Pole without taking her eyes off the flashing fire alarm and mumbled in his direction, barely understandable: “Mikołaj? Is it normal for it to glow like that?” The addressee frowned, but then quickly followed her eyes up. He laughed dryly and explained worryingly matter-of-factly: "As long as you see the colours a little more intensely, you don't have to worry, bitch." The young woman nodded slightly and continued to stare at the ceiling. An inexplicable relaxation set in unexpectedly violently, gradually causing her mind to run down to a workload that she had never achieved even with the strongest antidepressants and sedatives. Elise smiled contentedly. All the heavy thoughts were washed away. No worries, no fears. Despite the alcohol, the orange-haired woman felt surprisingly alive and able to literally uproot trees or explore all of Gotham in one night. What remained was the nagging need for physical closeness. The deep bass of the music gradually synchronized with her faster beating heart. Elise moved her head back to an upright position, feeling her brain slowly slide forward to her forehead. Suddenly everything was so intense.

The Mistress of Fear turned to the black-haired man and leaned closer to him, wiped a few loose strands of hair from his ear and whispered almost horny into it: "Hey ... uhm ... can I do you a little favour? You know what I mean, don't you?” She slowly reached into his crotch, feeling the bulge in his pants leisurely with her fingers. Mikołaj winced at her unexpected touch and almost choked on the alcohol, finally wiping his mouth with a wide grin. He put his left hand on the back of her head and tangled his bony fingers in her tousled hair. The psychopath whispered softly: “A favour, huh? You have to be a little more precise, little whore. I've no fucking clue what you're talking about.” The world blurred slightly in front of her eyes and focused on Mikołaj when Elise deftly undid the button of his pants. She had to feel more of him. Immediately. The fingers pulled down the zipper impatiently and almost danced over the still-covered member under the black fabric of the boxer shorts. The Pole looked at her playfully, breathed happily: "Right here in front of all the curious viewers?" The addressee snorted contemptuously and shrugged her shoulders. In fact, she really didn't care at that moment. She slipped her hand under the cotton and closed her fingers around the flaccid penis, gently rubbing the top with her thumb. The black-haired sigh barely audible, just made himself comfortable on the sofa. The Mistress of Fear felt her way up to the sensitive glans, finally circled the tip leisurely with her fingertips and pushed the foreskin back a little. The psychopath gasped unexpectedly loudly, tightening his grip on her hair. He growled hoarsely: “I would have looked for a nice room with you nearby, but you are practically begging to be fucked right here, right now. Fine with me, cunt. Come on, show me what your dirty mouth has to offer."

Elise grinned triumphantly and freed the now half-stiff penis from the too tight boxer shorts. She rubbed the skin expectantly with her hand closed, then leisurely licked the underside of the shaft up to the glans with her tongue. The young woman tapped the sensitive skin with the tip and hesitantly sucked on the swollen member. Mikołaj groaned throatily, hunched his hips slightly at the gentle caresses. His fingers tightened the grip on her hair and roughly pressed her head down onto his penis to feel more of the welcome stimulation. Elise let the heat get the better of her, allowing the Pole to penetrate deeper into her mouth. This led to the hoped-for success - the black-haired man gasped louder than planned and spoke lasciviously: “Shit, Elli. Giving fucking blowjobs to someone is kind of your thing, yeah?" The addressed ignored the almost insulting comment and concentrated on the pulsating shaft in her mouth. Did her gag reflex work differently than usual under the drugs? That was to be tested. The orange-haired woman moved her head evenly over the crotch of the psychopath and then sank lower without a warning, carefully sliding the member down her throat. As if to confirm her nausea appeared after a few centimetres, but much weaker than usual. It was surprisingly easy to ignore or at least to control. The Pole stared in disbelief at the young woman on his lap, watching in awe as she took his member into her mouth all the way to his base. Elise started a slow rhythm and relaxed her eyes closed. Szymon frowned at the sight and grumbled clearly annoyed: “Why are you always so outrageously lucky with your sluts, Brakowski?Silly bastard. I would wish that my wife could suck almost as well as the little one here." The black-haired groaned softly and replied cheekily: "Look at yourself in the mirror for a second, then you will know why you are so unlucky, fat ass."

The orange-haired woman hardly noticed anything from the whole discussion. In the meantime, her mind had completely passed by the deadly mixture of substances and all that remained was an urgent need for physical closeness, which could hardly be tamed by the alcohol. Elise choked slightly as the Pole lifted his hips surprisingly quickly. He held her hair tight in his slim fingers and thrust deeply into her mouth without consideration. Over and over again. The Mistress of Fear squeezed her eyes a little tighter, tried to surrender to the psychopath in this bizarre moment of pure lust. She had some experience with blow jobs, but the black-haired man was a completely different number than, for example, Jonathan, who didn't even dare look at her while receiving a head. Mikołaj, on the other hand, watched her very carefully. He was literally delighted at the rare sight and obviously enjoyed having the upper hand over the young woman. The psychopath suddenly pulled her head from his stiff member and rubbed her cheek almost tenderly with the wet penis, wiped the collected saliva from her lower lip with the glans over the corner of her mouth. A small, colourless line remained, stuck lost on the very pale skin. Mikołaj licked it slowly with his rough tongue, came to a stop with his mouth over her trembling lips. He breathed hoarsely: "Should we go a little further than just this nice foreplay, bitch? I want to cum in your sweet little cunt, slut."

The addressed blushed slightly and grinned as if abandoned by all good spirits. That sounded promising. Elise staggered unexpectedly, noticing how the vodka in particular clouded her head more and more. The young woman ignored the increasing gagging stimulus in her stomach in pure bliss. She finally nodded and pointed to the men on the sofa, mumbling slurred: "I can hardly wait, but please not in front of these perverted failures of humanity.” The black-haired smirked in amusement and wrinkled his nose, slowly rubbing his member with his free hand. After a while he reluctantly removed it from the sensitive flesh and reached into his trouser pocket, grabbed a menthol cigarette from the crumpled pack. Mikołaj lit the coffin nail and took a long drag of the deadly tobacco. He leaned closer to the young woman again, blowing the cooling smoke onto her delicate lips. The psychopath finally grumbled throatily: "If any of these motherfucking retards should dare to touch you, this guy is absolutely dead, understood? No one is fucking my personal bitch." With these words the Pole stood up without hesitation, pulling the Mistress of Fear with him by her short hair. The young woman groaned cautiously and tried not to fall, holding onto the thin man's torso. He nodded in the direction of the bar. A clear instruction to follow him. Elise shrugged and stumbled after him, the slight pull on her hair slowly making her insane.

The glass on the counter reflected the subdued light, allowing it to spread like a crystal from the core of the material far into the club. Mikołaj pushed her further along the bar until Elise finally understood where he was actually planing to go. There was a small hallway in front of the almost invisible door to the storage area. This was pretty hidden in a blind spot and was surprisingly well protected from prying eyes. Presumably the black-haired man had already lived out his indomitable instinct with several women here. The orange-haired woman felt how the toxic substances in her body paralysed her and finally tried to make her fall to the welcoming floor. Before she could think about it any further, the Pole pushed her cheek first against the wall and pressed his thin chest against her back, his hand wandering from her hair to her neck, slowly tightening around her throat. He licked the skin up the side of her ear, blew more stinking smoke into it and whispered into it: "Do I have to politely ask you to spread your fucking legs for me, Elli?" The Mistress of Fear gasped excitedly and wanted to shake her heavy head, but didn't get as far as to actually give this answer properly. She complied willingly, pushing her pants down to her shivering knees. Mikołaj held the cigarette with his teeth in the right corner of his mouth and moved his hip closer. For the first time that evening, his member slipped between the completely sodden lips, and found practically no resistance to the teasing movement during this action. The young woman groaned throatily and clawed her fingernails into the peeling wallpaper, pushed her ass out toward her lover. The constant friction on her vagina finally hit her. The older one knew how to move around to revive the most hidden desires and dark fantasies in her brain. His fingers closed around her neck, gradually choking her with each of his movements. Again and again the Pole poked cigarette smoke into the air and additionally obscured their questionable activities in the lurking dark.

The psychopath suddenly took a step closer, his penis now more than clearly noticeable on the labia. He put his free hand on the shaft and brought it into position, penetrated the Mistress of Fear with the next onset of the deep bass without great resistance. At that moment the music drowned out her surprised moans. Mikołaj shuddered behind her and took another drag on the horrible-smelling coffin nail, tapping the burnt ashes from the glowing tip. His hand released itself from the slightly bruised throat, the thin fingers found their way briefly into his mouth. These finally wandered leisurely down her upper body between her legs. The black-haired man pressed his wet fingertips to the swollen clitoris and breathed lasciviously: “It doesn't get any moister in your dirty little hole, right? Should be fine with me. It saves me having to fill you up with sperm first, so that it slips really well when we fuck.” He didn't wait for her answer, moved his hips slowly to the rhythm of the techno music. Elise panted lightly on the wall, clutching the plaster tighter. She had never felt anything like this in her entire life. Everything focused on her private parts at that moment. Did she have a heart there too? The strong pulsation at least suggested that. Mikołaj moved painfully slowly, took the last draw from the shortened coffin nail during the almost sensual penetration and pressed the stub next to her face on the wall. The leftovers trickled unhindered onto the floor. The Pole buried his fingers in her hair again while the others tampered with her clitoris. He sighed and mumbled softly: "Holy fucking shit, bitch. Give me a good reason not to inject the first load deep into your cunt right now. Your damn hole is sucking my dick right in. Greedy slut."

The Pole snorted, almost in amusement, at his own statement and began to move faster than before, the penis slid smoothly deeper with every thrust. The Mistress of Fear groaned lost in that moment, saw everything too clearly now. Everything was so alive around her. Everything finally made sense – at least somehow. The psychopath's fingernails slowly scratched through her heated skin, tearing small wounds, playing with the blood on the back of her head. The loud bass mixed with the indescribable impressions and eventually became one with this unique experience. Elise felt the first orgasm of the evening build up. The fingers on the clitoris drove her crazy and the shaft thrust on without mercy. The orange-haired shivered harder than before. The cursed gravity around her body probably had other plans that evening, as her legs gradually wanted to give way under the strain of all senses. But that was out of the question. The Mistress of Fear turned her head forward and leaned her forehead against the wall, feeling her head rattle slightly on the plaster again and again. Mikołaj growled downright animalistic behind her, becoming more furious with every second and seemed to want to dig into her brain with his sharp movements. The unknown rumble of his scratchy voice vibrated pleasantly in her ear. He reached harder into her tousled hair and pulled her head back roughly, sank his teeth into her pale neck. Elise screamed hoarsely, suddenly tightening around the member in the vagina. The Pole groaned deeply and bit harder into the soft flesh, the shaft began to twitch stronger than before. At that moment he pressed himself into the young woman as far as it would go, licking his tongue over the reddened area on her defenceless neck. His fingers continued to rub against the clitoris without a single break. The orange-haired let the back of her head fall on his bony shoulder, couldn't make any more sounds. The climax was way too intense. Even that was basically an understatement. Finally she felt how Mikołaj stiffened behind her and a familiar, warm feeling spread through her over-stimulated abdomen. Presumably he had come. However, the young woman was not so sure in her almost mad state.

The Mistress of Fear gasped in exhaustion, trying somehow to regain control of her breathing. She desperately held on to the wall. Too many impressions. Too many feelings. It was all too much. Only marginally did she notice that the black-haired man was still playing with his fingers on her sensitive nerves and preparing himself for another round. He slipped out of her painfully slowly and loosened his fingers from her hair, still letting her head rest on his shoulder. Elise suddenly felt inexplicably empty. This fact was quickly remedied by the psychopath. His fingers penetrated the vagina easily, touching the damp walls playfully. He breathed softly into her ear: "There's still room for more, isn't there? Not enough cum in your pussy." Mikołaj pulled his smeared fingers out of the gap and held them over the orange-haired woman's still open mouth, allowing a little bit of sperm to trickle onto her tongue. Elise took the drops willingly, swallowed the milky liquid without arguing. The Pole was also breathing quickly, and a light film of sweat seemed to have formed on his skin. His fingers pressed back into her crotch, playing on the clitoris and her entrance at the same time. It was going to be a long night.

Some hours later...

Selina clenched her teeth bitterly, held the staggering orange-haired woman tightly in her arms. The thief growled barely audibly and hissed almost angrily: “We actually had a very clear agreement, my dear. Alcohol only in moderation and for God's sake no drugs. That worked really fantastic, didn't it, Elise?” The addressee tried to avert her eyes, but stumbled a little because of the shift in the field of her blurry view. The vodka in particular was still working effectively in her head, making her world seem slightly distorted. Fortunately, the effects of ecstasy had already completely worn off. The young woman mumbled meekly: "It's all gotten a little out of hand, Mrs. Kyle. Nothing to worry about." The black-haired sighed desperately and shook her head. Elise had an impressive yet terrifying talent for understating things. Selina replied ironically: “Oh, just a little? Girl, I found you drunk, vomiting and drugged in a dirty bathroom somewhere in an abandoned red-light bar in the middle of nowhere. I don't think you can put this disaster into any nice words.” The Mistress of Fear began to gag at this statement as if on command. Not again. The thief rolled her eyes and stopped immediately, giving her friend some space to ease her sensitive stomach on a street corner. After a few tries, she finally vomited a gush of foul-smelling liquid. The black-haired woman raised an eyebrow and stared at the small, almost transparent puddle on the floor. Selina replied almost reproachfully: “You're just lucky that I can locate your cell phone pretty too reliably in whole Gotham. I don't want to know how you would have tried to explain to me, where you are right now. Your sense of direction isn't necessarily the best either.” The orange-haired woman slowly straightened up again and wiped her mouth.

She was obviously hungover from the very wild night. The Cat still didn't know what exactly had happened. There was no trace of Mikołaj in the bar, but it was obvious that he must have been with the young woman shortly before she arrived. At least the fresh sperm in her messy hair had suggested it. Fortunately, a brief, extremely unpleasant wash in a still functioning sink on the toilet had quickly got rid of this disgusting memento. Still, the anti hero would put the girl in the bathtub at home without any sign of mercy. The thief nibbled a bit on her lower lip and held back her growing impulse to give Elise a huge lecture about her behaviour. The young woman probably knew herself that she had gone way too far this night. Basically, the decision to get involved with the mysterious Pole was careless, if not to say mindless. According to Selina's information, the man was definitely not an innocent lamb and had a certain reputation among the scum of the underground, even if the big fish did not know him by now. So what had Elise expected in his presence? Only in his extremely thin police file Mikołaj was still a blank sheet on paper, but that would probably change soon too. The thief rubbed her aching forehead. She tried strictly to defend herself against the nagging thought that her friend could possibly have enjoyed herself with other, complete strangers in the night. A visit to the gynaecologist was practically inevitable. At that moment the smart Cat didn't want to think about it any further. Wordlessly and with gentle force, she pushed the Mistress of Fear towards her apartment. The orange-haired woman tried again and again to cover the conspicuous white spots on her black pants and seemed to experience this unwanted walk as a very personal disgrace. She clearly deserved this slight humiliation. Elise squinted frightened at the black-haired woman and whispered softly: "I'm really sorry, Mrs. Kyle. Really." The addressed took a deep breath, but then nodded almost understandingly. She replied more calmly than before: “We can't change that now anyway, darling. Does Jonathan at least know about your little adventure?” The young woman immediately slumped more. This gesture alone was basically enough to answer the question with a clear no. The orange-haired stammered hesitantly: "Not really." "Not really?”, repeated the Cat sceptically.

After a few seconds, she broke the silence again: "And what exactly is that supposed to mean? Do you mind to explain, honey?" Her friend became visibly more nervous at this questioning. After a while she replied, almost evasively: “Oh, I just told Mr. Crane I would stay with someone because I needed a change from my otherwise so dreary everyday life. So he probably wasn't expecting me back in our hideout this evening.” The thief raised an eyebrow. You could think whatever about Elise, she could at least lie properly and talk her way out of trouble. Nevertheless, this vague formulation did not leave her in peace. In the next side street, the black-haired woman finally asked cautiously: “So, you are officially 'sleeping' at someone's place. And who exactly is this someone supposed to be? Not that Jonathan had the stupid little idea of actually calling this person to ask how you are." The young woman waved her off and grinned a little at her answer: "I don't think so, Mrs. Kyle or did he try to contact you at night?” The Cat stopped immediately. As if in slow motion, she looked at her friend, her mouth opened to say something, but no sound escaped her throat. That couldn't be true! Was she serious? Apparently Elise understood at that moment that she was walking on very thin ice. Selina snorted contemptuously and replied coolly: “So you're staying with me. Great. Of course without asking me beforehand or letting me know about your plan. I am really enthusiastic about this thought, Elise. Are you completely out of your mind lately? How the hell am I supposed to explain to our good, innocent professor in a logical and, above all, credible way why you are about to return home looking like an overused wreck? I can't get you back on your feet within half a day!” The addressee gave an uncertain smile and said shyly: “May I actually stay with you tonight, Mrs. Kyle?”


End file.
